


White Christmas

by kuro49



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Dacryphilia, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, batfam kinkmas 2020 treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:48:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28022694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro49/pseuds/kuro49
Summary: Bruce doesn't come down from the chimney but he still brings Jason all the presents he could want.
Relationships: Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 10
Kudos: 89
Collections: Batfam Kinkmas Exchange 2020





	White Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Salmonellagogo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salmonellagogo/gifts).



> this was meant to be santa!bruce/jason but.... i couldn't do it.... i couldn't be that strong 😔 so i tried to make up for it with extra sappy christmas porn.

It's a very cute little townhouse in the suburbs about forty-five minutes outside of Gotham. Tucked at the corner of a cross street overlooking a park in conjunction of a public school. There is no white picket fence only because the yard is lined by rose bushes in the summer while tulips protrude at the first sign of spring. 

Bruce only ever comes by when he knows Jason is there.

And Jason only ever stays when he has to, whether that's to keep up appearances or to maintain the townhouse itself.

This place is a last resort for him. In existence for when he needs to lay low. The special kind of low that is lower than some shithole basement he would rent by the week in the bustling center of a fair-sized city half a world away from Gotham, lower than the handful of empty apartments stripped of hydro and running water that he's got stashed and scattered all over Eastern Europe from the time when he trained under the League.

To put it lightly, Jason doesn't come here often.

And Bruce even less so.

Bruce knows it's probably with good reason that Jason doesn't stay any longer than a few days at a time: He feels like an intruder here.

On the surface of it all, Jason pulls it off so well when he is dressed in a thick wool knitted sweater in shades of cream and beige and a pair of jeans that aren't too tight or loose. He can be found in the front yard raking leaves that fell from the neighbour's large overarching maple during the tail end of October. Looking relaxed and at ease with the gentle slope in the line of his shoulders while there is a Thermos full of freshly brewed coffee sitting on the first stone step leading up to the front door.

It's him in some ways, and not in so many others when Jason is looking all soft around the eyes with his mouth curved kindly even when he isn't making any effort to smile deliberately. The feeling remains even if Jason is perfectly capable of blending seamlessly into the background of one of the most picturesque neighbourhoods in the greater Gotham area.

It's a lot like the common mid-sized American family that is average in every way to have a cottage by the lake for the summer or a cabin in the middle of the woods for the hunting seasons. This here is a perfect two block oasis where nobody asks any questions beyond a non-intrusive _how are you_ , and it's exactly what Jason needs as a getaway from his own normal. 

Even Red Hood can be placed up on a shelf on hiatus if given enough preparation.

And this year, Jason thinks he can stretch his vacation out to the New Year if need be.

Among many things, Bruce wishes this could be the life for Jason. Especially when the townhouses all along the street is lit up in strings of coloured lights, bulbs alternating in whites and blues, greens and reds to flash and flash and flash. It has all the makings of the holiday spirit even if there is no frost to line the window sills or a dusting of snow to finally blanket the evergreens or the rooftop shingles. 

"You're late." Jason stirs, turning over in bed at the shadow that is darker than all the rest in the bedroom. It's Christmas Eve, and it's both the creak of the hinges and the swift waft of chill to wash over him despite the blanket that give him the next clue. "And you broke in through the window again."

"I thought using the chimney would be a bit on the nose for this time of the year." Bruce answers with his voice still the same gravel tone as Batman's, his hands going for his utility belt first.

"Santa's usually a little less bleak looking, slightly less pointy in the ears department too." Jason rubs at his bleary eyes with the back of a hand, chuckling softly to himself before he is yawning loudly into a pillow. Jason is lying sprawled out on his side of the bed with his hair all mussed from sleep. "Kind of hard to mistaken you for the big man when he always shows up with a present or at least some stocking stuffers while you just turn up empty handed every time."

He turns his head to watch as Bruce sheds the rest of the suit in succession.

The man isn't putting on a show but Jason looks at him like he is an exclusive private show for one. Heat in those dark eyes, Jason tracks each layer landing solidly on the floor of the bedroom to rove his gaze over every sliver of skin being exposed. Naked hunger at the reveal of decade old scars. There's intent plain as day in the depth of Jason's stare, blinking long and slow while he is taking it all in like it isn't a familiar sight.

"You say that like I never get you anything." Bruce's mouth curls the smallest hint at both corners. With his cowl gone and his voice back to normal, his sweat-soaked hair sticks up at odd angles. It's both a terrible look and the best one Jason has seen since the last time Bruce showed up in the same room as himself and not the Bat or any of his other personas. "And, aren't you a bit old to still believe in Santa Claus, Jay?" 

"I guess you missed the tree that I spent all evening putting up when you broke in through my bedroom window, huh."

Downstairs, there is an artificial tree wrapped in tinsels and strings of coloured lights tucked into the corner. It fits right in with the wall trim and the nice rug in the center of the living room. It even goes with the stippling in the popcorn ceiling Jason has been meaning to replace for a while now.

Bruce is left in just his briefs when he finally comes up to the side of the bed, close enough for Jason to reach out for him. Bruce never misses a thing, and Jason knows that too. "I know you've been good." Bruce says in return. His expression is soft and permissive too when Jason's fingers are wrapping around his wrist, tugging him closer.

Jason knows a line when he hears it but just as Bruce's stated: He _has_ been good.

"I gave you a key to the front door." Jason reiterates, lets the man leech heat from his finger tips, coats each one like fresh blood from an open wound that bleeds nothing but want. He's been so good, and he's proven it at every step too. He gets to own up to that. If nothing else, he's earned it. 

It's about time for Bruce to do the same.

"I _know_." Bruce murmurs, and this is not a line with his own gaze flooding with so much warmth. Jason pulls him down over him. Bruce doesn't envelop him, and it's still a very special realization that comes to the both of them every single time: To have Jason back at all, to have him growing up so big and strong.

Mouth wide open, Jason welcomes Bruce with tongue and the barest graze of teeth.

The kiss is wet, it's messy. His tongue all soft and sweet and docile from sleep, and it's so slick as Bruce takes all the time to open Jason up like he's worth every slow second that goes by. Jason groans into the kiss, splays his thighs a little wider beneath the sheets to accommodate the fit of Bruce between them. Bruce comes closer, grinding down, and it's all Jason can do but settle in to feel just how hard Bruce is already. 

All ready, and all for him.

Jason is gasping from the kiss when Bruce finally pulls back far enough to draw a translucent line of spit that connects them both. It's obscene, and to add to that, Jason's eyes are hooded, pupils blown wide and dark, gaze filling up to the very brim with want. And Jason's breathing only gets heavier as Bruce sets a slow drawn out pace, rutting his cock through the strain of his briefs against the crease of Jason's thigh until the fabric goes dark with precum.

"Eager, aren't you, love?" Bruce chuckles at the expression over Jason's face.

It's a little needy, a lot earnest, and openly begging for more and more and more.

A peck to the corner of Jason's lips, and then a proper kiss too. Bruce will gladly give it all to him.

Jason leans back just far enough to kick away the sheets still in the way between them, gets at Bruce's bare skin with his fingertips tugging at the waistband of his briefs. The hard line of his Adonis belt cuts down on both sides in between the little nicks and scars and healing wounds still held together with butterfly bandages. Jason lingers despite his initial impatience and Bruce gives him all the time he wants.

Bruce lets Jason's hands work over the coarse hairs that trail down to his cock, wrap his fingers around the base to feel how heavy and hard he gets for him.

It's an agonizingly slow exploration of what he already knows by heart.

"You can hardly blame me, Bruce." The man groans as Jason squeezes gently, the sound low and deep as Jason drags his hand upwards just to twist his grip right below the crown where Bruce's most sensitive. Jason teases the way he does only because, "you kept me hanging for so long."

Both hands to the inside of Jason's knees and Bruce presses down to have Jason exposed underneath him. He is naked save for the thin sheen of sweat beginning to gather, his own set of bandaged cuts and bruises breaking up the show of all that bare skin.

"You kept yourself busy just fine." Bruce remarks when he finally works two fingers inside of Jason just to find his passage already wet and soft, his hole stretched and his rim still shiny with lube.

Jason doesn't answer with anything like words. Instead, he grinds his hips back into Bruce's hand, takes those two fingers even deeper until Bruce is working the rough calloused pads against his prostate. With his legs wide apart, spread out across the sheets, Jason tips his head back for another kiss. He hardly needs words to convey what they both know he wants. 

Prepped for his use, and Jason intends to be used.

They are drawn back together and it's the same long stretch of heat each time their mouths meet.

Jason is panting and it's equal parts the insistent press of Bruce's lips and the fingers he still has buried down to the last knuckle inside of his hole.

They've fucked plenty of times with barely any prep at all. The burn as Bruce pushes in bluntly, fucking him raw against the edge of a rooftop is a different kind of high that Jason chases after when he can barely breathe around the intrusion of Bruce's cock sinking all the way down to the hilt in one hard thrust. Given all the time in the world to take it slow, to draw it out, Bruce is no less thorough when he is with Jason on a plush bed in a warm room so far outside of Gotham city.

It feels a little like the man is taking him from both ends when Bruce's fingers spread him out on each pump, thumb brushing at his perineum on each pass, working him inside and out, all in time to the sweep of Bruce's tongue along every bump and ridge inside of Jason's mouth until Bruce is the only thing he can taste in the back of his throat. 

To punctuate a long lingering string of kisses and this is the remaining syllable to come out of Jason: " _B_."

Bruce drags his fingers out and the sound is absolutely soppy. It gets Jason flushing, flustered at how pliable he's become under Bruce's hands when the spread of his thighs just drops a little bit wider, looking a whole lot more desperate as if the sound to come out of him isn't wanton enough. Jason doesn't like to cry but it's like Bruce's cock has a direct reach to a switch inside of him that gets the waterworks flowing every fucking time.

Bruce turns him over by the hips, tugs him up on to his hands and knees. It's no effort at all with how eager Jason's become for Bruce to ease the thick crown of his cock inside of him with the barest nudge. Bruce sliding in smooth and burning hot the rest of the way until he's balls deep on the first thrust.

A little less known fact is that Jason was a crybaby as a kid but that was before Robin, before Bruce.

A good look at him now, and he's reduced to red rimmed eyes, glassy from unshed tears at the ready.

And Bruce has seen him enough times like this to anticipate it, to look forward to it, to want to bring him to this point every single time just to see how lovely he looks when he gets like this. He loves it as much as Jason claims to hate it, thinks it's the prettiest sight he can make out of the ruins of Jason when he's under him and the lights from outside are casting little twinkling dots of colours all along Jason's side.

Bruce drapes himself over him, his chest pressing up along the line of Jason's spine with a slow roll of his hips.

Bruce grinds against that spot in him, pulling back barely halfway before he is fucking even deeper inside. It knocks the breath from Jason's chest, has him gasping, his hands grasping at nothing but the thin sheets while he's trying his hardest to keep the tears back. A-ah, ah, _ah—_ in between each cry, it is the slur of Bruce's name and perhaps _m-more_.

Every thrust feels like Bruce manages to reach even deeper inside.

Every full body slam feels like the man is fully capable of ruining Jason for anyone else.

"God, Jason." Bruce bites out from between the clench of his teeth, and it's all he can manage to get out before he falls right back into the same pace. " _Baby_ , you're gripping me so tight right now."

Tracing one hand up along Jason's side until he can run it over Jason's chest, Bruce brushes against a hard perky nipple while Jason is whining audibly from the onslaught of further stimulation. A pinch, a pull, a squeeze of his whole pectoral and Bruce doesn't leave it alone until Jason's arms are shaking hard enough to almost leave him face down into the sheets while Bruce keeps fucking into him.

Bruce doesn't go easy on him, he never does, and it gets Jason squirming every time. He goes for the other one, abusing the nub until it's bright red and puffy, leaving him clouded and confused when it's clearly painful except it also leaves the head of his cock openly drooling in pleasure.

Jason sobs out loud this time, and his arms give out from under him.

Bruce goes with him, and this turn, his nipples are made to drag against the sheets with each thrust. It has his body clenching, making him squeeze down further on the man's cock buried inside of him.

There's so much power behind it, Bruce's thighs slamming against the back of Jason's own. He feels carved open even after so much prep, wide enough to take on the shape of Bruce's cock if he keeps going. Jason's knees slip against the sheet on the mattress, the only movement really when Bruce's hands are at his hips holding him in stern place as he drives into him over and over again.

Bruce turns Jason's head to the side with a hand at his throat, thumb brushing against his Adam's apple as Jason swallows hard. Bruce grazes his lips along a cheek, catching the tail end of one salty trail before he is kissing Jason right above his eye, pulling back just to watch the flutter of thick dark lashes all clumped together with tears.

It's that sight to bring Bruce over the edge, and Jason with him.

In just this room with the Christmas lights from the neighbour's house coming through the windows, it doesn't feel like they are playing house. It feels like a life when Jason has the heavy drape of Bruce's arms embracing him from behind long beyond the afterglow is over. Bruce's palm resting against Jason's stomach while his thumb swipes back and forth almost lazily.

The motion is languid and tender like they have all the time in the world for just the two of them alone.

"Look, B." Jason blinks at the sight beyond this room, eyes still a bit puffy and rimmed in red from the tears. Snow has started to gather along the window sill. Fresh snow is still falling heavily and there is no sign that it's about to stop any time soon. The snowflakes are thick and big and spinning so slowly as they come down from the dark sky above. "Looks like it's going to be a white Christmas this year after all."

Bruce tugs him in closer until there's no space between them, just the graze of Bruce's mouth, a scrape of teeth and a kiss to the nape of Jason's neck before he is turning him over in his arms to murmur hotly against the shell of Jason's ear: "You could've just asked, Jay. If you want, I can give you a White Christmas every day."

If Jason wasn't red before, he's absolutely the most festive shade now.


End file.
